


Shooting Star

by sorrel_ink



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrel_ink/pseuds/sorrel_ink
Summary: “It’s been a year now since the explosion that turned the C.I.T. ruins into a bottomless lake, flushing the Institute out of the hole it hid in for all these years...”She’d stood right next to him as his fingers had lingered on the red button, having last second doubts about the choices he’d made along the way. For a single moment he’d allowed doubt to creep in, for a single moment he had strayed from his goal, from the orders he had given himself and followed to a T. It didn’t seem like anyone else had noticed his hesitation, though. It had been just a second.But sometimes just a second is enough.
Relationships: Male Sole Survivor/Piper Wright, Sole Survivor/Piper Wright
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s been a year now since the explosion that turned the C.I.T. ruins into a bottomless lake, flushing the Institute out of the hole it hid in for all these years...”

She’d stood right next to him as his fingers had lingered on the red button, having last second doubts about the choices he’d made along the way. For a single moment he’d allowed doubt to creep in, for a single moment he had strayed from his goal, from the orders he had given himself and followed to a T. It didn’t seem like anyone else had noticed his hesitation, though. It had been just a second.

But sometimes just a second is enough.

He closed his eyes, listening to Sturges voice, focusing on the way his accent made him draw out the syllables -- it gave him something else to think about besides the near constant pain he was in. As the man spoke, he could hear Piper’s voice repeating the same words, even though she was nowhere near.

“During this past year, many of you have asked me about him. The Man Out Of Time, as I had called him the first time we met. How could one person (with a little help from his friends) accomplish so much in so little time? Straight out of the Vault-Tec freezer after more than 200 years, thrust right into the Commonwealth, not at all like the world he had been used to.” 

Nathan groaned, causing Sturges to stop his reading and look up at him, worried.

“You sure we shouldn’t strap you to a mattress and get you to Diamond City? There is no telling when that doctor of yours is goin’ to show up, if at all. You know the Wasteland ain’t forgiving,” Sturges said, getting up from his chair and grabbing a stimpak from the plastic crate of supplies that lay on the bookshelf. Nathan steeled himself for another puncture -- no matter how many times he’d had to do this on himself over his time in the army and in the Wasteland, it never got any easier. He had always hated needles. 

“No, I’m not going to Diamond -- Ouch! -- Ugh, City. I… I can’t.” He answered, wishing he had the strength to pull his blanket over his eyes, but even that was too much for the injured man.

Sturges knew better than to argue with Nathan. Instead, the man simply sighed and got back to reading the article. 

“Right, where was I… There we are. If I hadn’t had the chance to be there for almost every step of his path towards ridding us of our age-old Boogeyman, I would have never believed that one person could do it all. Especially after the fact, when I haven’t heard from or of him for almost a year.”

Sturges paused, and Nathan took it as a sign that uncomfortable questions were nagging at the other man, questions that he did not and would not answer. A heavy sigh was all that Sturges would get. That was enough for him to take a hint. He continued reading the article, his voice fading in and out of focus. 

“Indeed, all that he has accomplished seems like the stuff of legends or Pre-War comic books, if you’re lucky enough to find any intact copies.” Bit on the nose, that one, Nathan thought, remembering the few days he’d ran around Boston dressed as the Silver Shroud.

“I fear,” Sturges began, but stopped abruptly. Nathan turned his head, trying to look at the man across from his bed, sitting in an old, red recliner. Sturges was staring at the sheet of paper, his expression unreadable.

“What does it say, Sturges?”

The man cleared his throat, before repeating. “I fear that this Vault Dweller descended on the Wasteland like a shooting star, burning out in front of our eyes. The question remains -- is he still out there? Or did he meet his timely end without any witnesses to relay the story?”

“Timely.” Nathan scoffed, shutting his eyes once more.

“Well, fella, you are two-hundred and something, aren’t you? Long past your expiration date,” Sturges joked, trying to lighten the mood. Nathan supposed he was right and that no harm was meant, but Piper knew the power that words held, so he wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t resentment creeping onto the page. Justified resentment, but he was in no condition to think about that.

“Looks like she doesn’t know you’re here,” Sturges said after finishing the article, “Are you sure you want to keep it that way?”

A long silence followed. The wind carried distant gunfire from the side of the river, along with the unmistakable scent of burning flesh. He didn’t care to know what was on fire, his only hope that it wasn’t the medic he had sent for.

“Nate, do you hear me?” 

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice quiet, “I don’t want her to know. And Sturges?”

“Ya?”

“You can tell her after my timely passing.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you read Piper’s paper?”

“Yeah. Think his luck ran out and he finally got chewed up by a Deathclaw?”

“Nah, I don’t think there is anything in the Commonwealth that can stop that guy. I heard that killing a Deathclaw was like the first thing he did after waking up. With a minigun and power armor!”

“That can’t be…”

“I was told by a Minuteman that it’s true! It was up in Concord!”

A few Diamond City residents were sitting by the Dugout Inn, several copies of the newest issue of Publick Occurrences tossed on the table, stained by beer, ash and without a doubt, Bobrov’s Worst Moonshine -- a stench one never forgot, no matter how long of a black-out it caused.

The trio was too busy squabbling over their opinions on the contents of the article to notice that its author was standing just a little ways behind them, leaning against the wall of the Dugout Inn’s entrance, lit cigarette in one hand and a rusty flip-lighter in the other. 

This issue was selling very well, so much so that Piper was seriously considering asking someone to build her a second printing press. She wasn’t sure who, though. Half of her regretted not asking Blue to do it, back when… 

She put the smoke back into her mouth, wishing that the bitter taste of tobacco could overwhelm the unpleasant feelings that had stirred up in her stomach at the thought of that man. That man who’d… Who’d duped her into thinking that he cared for her, truly cared for her, with his gentle words and his soft, blue eyes, the feeling of his rough fingertips on her cheeks as he wiped away her tears. She’d really thought there had been something more between them. But… She had been wrong. So wrong that he’d left her without answers, leaving her high and dry even after she’d poured her soul out to him, confided in him about Nat, about her fears, about her dreams, about everything that there was under the sun.

It had ended one late spring evening, much like this one. They had been in Sanctuary, the entire town preparing for celebrations. The Institute had been blown up the previous day and the settlers were hurrying to throw a feast for the Minutemen, Blue and herself, too. 

The sun had been bleeding out on the horizon when Preston had asked her to help look for Blue. Nobody had seen him for hours, even Codsworth was none the wiser about his Master’s whereabouts. They hadn’t been too worried -- he always showed up either when you most needed him, or when you least expected him. Usually the difference was decided by which end of his gun you’d be on. 

Piper had never expected for her to be the latter. While his gun hadn’t fired, she’d still left feeling as if something had been torn right out of her.

She had been the one to find him. It had taken a while -- his old house had been the first she’d checked, and the first time around he hadn’t been there. But the second time around she found him on the floor of his old bedroom, clutching a bottle of absinthe, tears streaming down his face. 

It had started off alright, as alright as comforting a piss-drunk, piss-covered man could be. He’d sobbed into her shoulder, telling her that he’d gone to bury his wife, Nora, who, by now, had unthawed, which she didn’t imagine was a pretty sight or smell. One thing had led to another and she’d ended up confessing the love she had for him and that, maybe, now he could put it all in the past and move on.

In hindsight, it had been terrible timing on her part. These decisions had to be made on a sober mind, not when you’ve downed two glasses worth of the strongest spirit out there in the span of a minute.

Blue had exploded. She couldn’t remember what he had said, the slurred words escaped her memory, too painful to recall, but he had told her to leave. To leave, go back to Diamond City and not bother him again. There had been at least one ‘how could you!’ exclaimed, loud enough that the festivities in the next house over had died down for a moment, the town on high alarm.

In the 48 hours between deciding to put an end to the Institute and the celebrations, something had broken inside that man. Something had broken, but in usual Blue fashion, he’d made his stance clear from the get-go -- he didn’t want it fixed. 

“Hey, you’re Piper Wright, right?” An unfamiliar voice called out, tearing Piper out of her thoughts. Any other time she would have been annoyed, but this was something she didn’t like to dwell on. The article was supposed to serve as a way to unload all her thoughts of the events of the past year, mentioning Blue only because… Well, no matter how she felt about him, he’d still been in the middle of it all. 

“Yeah,” she answered, tossing her smoke on the ground and stepping on it, looking up at the speaker. It was some woman she didn’t recall seeing ever before, copper skin covered in pockmarks, dressed like your regular trader.

She walked close to Piper, quickly glancing at the squabbling trio who’d moved on to arguing about prices at Arturo’s store, and leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He’s at Hangman’s Alley.”

Piper didn’t need any more than that. The flip-lighter went into the pocket of her old coat, her pistol came out of its holster and she was off to brave the streets of Boston, despite the night approaching with wide strides. 

She wanted answers.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been quite a while since Piper’s travels had taken her through this particular Boston alleyway. Once it had been one of many raider spots in the maze of decrepit buildings and hastily abandoned cars, but now that seemed like ancient history. As always, Blue was to blame for the raider’s troubles. In recent months, Hangman’s Alley had acquired the reputation of a bustling trading hub -- a few of Diamond City’s more business oriented citizens had been arguing what this development meant for their income. That could only mean things were going well for the settlement, but Piper wasn’t here to do a business report. That would have to wait for a slow news day.

As soon as she turned the corner, Piper was blinded by a floodlight, followed by the raspy voice of a male ghoul demanding to state her business here. The name ‘Piper’ didn’t need much of an explanation -- she hadn’t gotten further than that when the metal door slid open with a loud clunk, revealing a few people on the street, talking and smoking, their faces illuminated by red neon. 

The first thing one saw when entering through this side was a wall covered in a variety of neon signs, whatever could still be salvaged in the nearby streets. Above the double doors, red letters spelled out “Last Request”, and Piper could hear a tune coming through the shattered windows. There were about a dozen people in the poorly lit room, so it felt like the right place to begin her search.

She didn’t find Blue mingling with the crowd. No, instead she found another familiar face, one she hadn’t expected at all.

“Sturges?” She called out, waving at the man as she pushed through the crowd, nearing the bar counter. “What are you doing so far from Sanctuary?”

“Oh, hi, Piper,” he responded, grabbing an empty glass from the counter, “just helping out the folks ‘ere, getting all the wires set. These lights won’t shine on their own, ya know? Say, you looking for a drink? This one’s on the house.”

“I’ll pass, thanks. You’ve certainly done a great job with this place,” she said, leaning in closer, “But we both know I’m not here to talk about home renovation. Where is he?”

“Uh, Piper, you’re going to have to be a bit more precise with that. If you mean Preston, he’s in the Castle-”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Sturges,” she cut him off, giving the man a stern look, “You know I mean Blue. I’ve been told he’s here. And don’t try to wiggle out of this, you’ve never been a good liar.”

The man pressed his lips in a tight line, fingers fiddling with the glass in his hands. Piper didn’t take her eyes off him, ready to grill him for information if she needed to. Better an ugly truth than a sweet lie, that had always been her stance, and if there was something regarding Blue that Sturges didn’t want to reveal to her for a reason like not wanting to hurt her feelings, or something else along those lines, she wouldn’t have it.

“C’mon, Sturges, I don’t have all night,” she urged him on, glancing around the bar. While she didn’t think Sturges would ever do such a thing, she wouldn’t be too surprised if he’d ask the guards to escort her out. Wouldn’t be the first time people she’d considered friends turned on her when she started asking the uncomfortable questions.

“Alright,” he finally said, putting the glass down, “He’s here alright. But-”

“Where?”

“Upstairs, the other building,” he said, motioning at the old apartment building just a few steps down the alley. Before Piper could run off, he grabbed her by her coat sleeve.

“You shouldn’t go there,”

“And why’s that?” She asked, impatient. Why was Sturges guarding Blue like she was out to tear him limb from limb? “What is it? So I don’t interrupt him screwing a feral?”

Sturges winced, no doubt at the mental image, but didn’t say anything else. Instead, he simply let her go. 

Piper didn’t think she’d ever gotten up several flights of stairs that fast, her mind too preoccupied to even consider the energy she was spending to get up to the 4th floor. She was busy considering what would happen in the next few minutes, one scenario rolling in after the other, each worse than the one before. Would she encounter a pissed off Blue who’d, once again, tell her to scram? Or maybe she would interrupt him in the process of spending time with someone? Maybe it would be both, and she’d gain nothing but a shattered heart and no way back?

She stopped in front of the brown, wooden door, her heart racing. Did she really want this? It wasn’t too late to turn around and hope that, maybe, one day Blue would come around on his own.

Piper wouldn’t be Piper if she just sat around, twiddling her thumbs and waiting on the world.

She pushed open the door, bracing for a surprised yelp and a gun pointed at her face, but instead all she was met with was darkness and silence. There was only a dim light on her right hand side, obscured by something massive in its way. No warnings, no greetings directed at someone else. 

“Hey, Blue?” She said, closing the door behind her, “I was hoping you would spare me a moment.” 

No answer.

“It’s been a while,” she continued, stepping towards the light, “and I heard you were here so…”

As soon as the bed behind the bookshelves came into view, her words got stuck in her throat. She’d been by Blue’s side through thick and thin, plunging stimpaks into each other’s shoulders countless times, but she had never seen him in a state quite like this. Not even after assaulting the Institute together with the Minutemen -- it had seemed that he’d escaped that one without so much as a scratch, but now?

He was laying on his back, head propped up on a worn-out pillow, a gray blanket tossed on his lower legs. His underwear was laying on the edge of the bed too, and, while in any other situation Piper would have looked away blushing something fierce, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the injuries that littered his upper body. There were countless long, inflamed gashes on his abdomen, right arm, and it looked like someone had tried to take a bite out of his cheek, too. Wherever his skin wasn’t red from the infection, it was a sickly white and beads of sweat were rolling down his cheeks, getting lost in a bushy black beard. 

It didn’t seem like Blue had noticed that someone had entered the room, eyes closed half-way, chest rising heavily. When she had asked Sturges if Blue was fucking a feral, she hadn’t meant it literally, but now it looked like something even more horrid had gone down.

Why was he lying here? Why hadn’t they brought him straight to Dr. Sun?

All the anger and frustration she had felt towards the man on the bed for the last year was pushed aside by fear. Fear that she wouldn’t be able to help him in time, that she had come too late, that he was laying here, simply waiting for his end.

“Blue,” she repeated, kneeling next to the bed, her voice gentle, “Blue, can you hear me?”

An incomprehensible groan left the man’s mouth as he opened his eyes and turned his head to face Piper. They weren’t the vivid blue she had grown so fond of. Clouded, not quite there, just how it was with Nat when she came down with a fever. 

“It’s me, Piper. Please, whatever issue you have with me coming here, it can wait. Blue, what happened to you?” She asked, pressing her palm to his forehead. It was hot and wet. Now that she was close to him, she could tell he reeked of sweat, like he hadn’t seen water in more than a month. 

“A lot,” he got out, his voice faint.

“Blue, I’m bringing you Diamond City right now, and don’t you even try to stop me. These aren’t even fresh wounds, you’ve been like this for at least a few days. What were you thinking? What was Sturges thinking, letting you live like this? God, you--”

“You.”

“What do you mean, ‘you’?”

“I was thinking,” Blue said, trying to prop himself up on his one good elbow to look at Piper -- he failed, collapsing back in bed with a groan, making Piper shake her head as she wiped his forehead off with the closest clean rag she could find.

“I was thinking of you.”

“What the hell does that even mean? How does thinking of me equal not getting treated when you look like you almost became someone’s dinner?”

“Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

That was simply the stupidest thing she had heard in a long while -- and that was a lot, considering that she went down to Dugout Inn every other night, where Vadim’s stories somehow always won first place in this competition.

“Idiot,” she uttered, “Ugh, Blue, did you lose some brains on the way, too? Don’t answer that, we can have this conversation once you’re better. I’m getting you out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some images for you: [Last Request](https://i.imgur.com/rVnNAFz.png) / [Blue's Room](https://i.imgur.com/7bFFfwT.png) / [Blue](https://i.imgur.com/3gvCsmh.png)


End file.
